


The Man in Red

by RowWithAChipNPin



Series: Someone Like You [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Evil, Cisco is in the wrong place at the wrong time, Hostage Situations, M/M, Relationship is only mentioned, The Flash is evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 17:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10540791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowWithAChipNPin/pseuds/RowWithAChipNPin
Summary: Nine months after the particle accelerator exploded, the Flash terrorizes Central City. He is a nightmare in a stolen red suit, killing without reason and striking fear into the heart of those he doesn't.Cisco is a disgraced engineer, haunted by the mistakes at STAR Labs and the dark scar they left on the city he loves so much. He just wanted to make amends; now he doesn't think he'll get the chance. He only wishes he could've said goodbye to his boyfriend, Barry, before the Flash killed him.(Dark Flash AU)





	

**Author's Note:**

> At long last, I post a new Flash short. 
> 
> As usual, it has not been beta'd, and it's been a while since I wrote it. So be sure to let me know of any errors I missed!
> 
> And as always, please review!
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Row

**2 | The Man in Red | 836**

**_(dark flash au)_ **

 

Deep breaths. In, out.

Cisco knew how to calm down in a panic attack. He used to get them all the time as a kid, after Armando’s death. They became more infrequent as he grew up, and he hadn’t had one in years, since his first year of college. Maybe that episode in grad school, but he didn’t know if it really counted.

This _definitely_ counted.

The restraints bit into his wrists—zip ties. There were several other hostages, including a barista he recognized from Jitters. He’d thought about asking her out a few times. Guess that was out of the question now, considering they were about to die. The tile was cold on his cheek; he was lying at an awkward angle, a shoulder twisted underneath him, ankles tied together.

Footsteps came closer, and he held his breath. Not that he was trying to make their captor think he was dead, but it was either stop breathing or start hyperventilating again.

“I know you, don’t I?”

Slowly, Cisco tilted his head to look up. It was the man who’d been terrorizing Central City since roughly nine months after the Particle Accelerator exploded (again, really sorry about that), the man in the red suit with the lightning bolt on his chest. He claimed he was the fastest man alive, and considering Cisco knew, at the very least, he could run a mile in five seconds (maybe three), that was very possibly true.

The media was calling him The Flash. Bad guy. Good name. He’d said as much to his boyfriend, Barry, although now he was kinda wishing he said some other things instead, like _I love you_ and _I’m sorry._

He tried to lick his lips, but his mouth was bone dry.

“I don’t think so,” he said. He pretended his voice didn’t crack.

The Flash shook his head.

“No, I do,” he insisted. “Where do I know you from? Hmm…” He tapped his foot while he thought, just on _this_ side of superspeed. He snapped his fingers. “Oh! You work at STAR Labs, right?”

His face hardened under his mask and Cisco felt his stomach drop. Crap.

“You were there the night the Particle Accelerator exploded. I saw you, on the stage with Dr.” He kicked the tile, cracking a square of marble. “Harrison.” He dropped into a crouch and tangled his hand in Cisco’s shirt, hauling him up until their noses practically touched. “Wells.”

The Flash looked like he could be handsome, under that mask. His eyes were hazel; they crackled with yellow lightning. What an odd thing to notice when a murdered is breathing into your face ( _coffee. his breath smells like coffee,_ said Cisco’s overactive brain).

“Right?”

Cisco nodded, once, shortly. More a jerk of the chin than a nod, really. He was shaking.

“I’m really sorry about that, we all are,” he spilled. “We don’t know what happened, but we’re trying to make up for it, we are, we—”

The Flash shook him, effectively cutting off Cisco’s babbling.

“No, see, I don’t care about that,” he said. “In fact, I should thank you. You guys gave me an incredible gift.”

He dropped Cisco back onto the floor. His head cracked against the pavement; long hair fell into his face. He blew it out of his eyes. He’d been planning on getting a haircut. Now at least he wouldn’t have to, so that was something.

He should’ve kept his mouth shut. Cisco was a smart guy, really smart, and he knew better. He did. And he didn’t know what made him do it. Fucking big mouth.

“Why didn’t you kill those people?”

The Flash stopped, and slowly turned to look at Cisco, who was pale and trembling, and entirely unsure of what possibly made him say that. Maybe some deep, secret, suicidal tendency beneath all his snazzy talk and false pride, probably in the same place as his deep inferiority complex. Beneath his red cowl, his eyes were hard.

“Who?”

Cisco took a deep breath that shuddered in his chest, to steel himself, and wet his lips.

“That family on the east side. You held them hostage last month, right? Why didn’t you kill them? You’ve killed before.”

And Cisco knew he had; he’d seen the pictures. He wasn’t supposed to, he was only a police consultant, in his spare time, but sometimes, he got curious. He peeked at case files, even the ones he wasn’t assigned. He usually regretted it, especially lately, when the Flash was involved.

He’d never be able to forget those crime scene photos—pale, still bodies with hand-sized holes ripped in their chests, where their hearts should have been. Where their hearts _were,_ before the Flash shredded them.

The Flash tilted his head, staring at Cisco curiously.

“I have a very strong moral compass,” he said.

Cisco snorted.

“Your moral compass is a fucking roulette wheel,” he sniped.

The Flash paused, then shrugged.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that one,” he admitted. He squatted down in front of Cisco. “That doesn’t really bode well for you, does it?”

His lips split into a dark grin, and Cisco gulped.

No. No, it did not.


End file.
